New Cake Sisters story! This is a LONG time in coming, so I hope you like it!

Easter Cake

It had been weeks since the “Turtle Soup” incident, and Vanilla was slowly starting to recover. She didn’t think she would ever recover completely, but she had recovered enough. At least by now she had stopped crying, and she was no longer afraid to go outdoors. But that incident had traumatized her, had seared itself into her brain, and she would never forget it. Nor would she ever let such a thing happen again.

“I’ll never make another friend again….” she thought to herself one day, alone in her room. “Never, ever again.”

She could hear the sounds of the TV in the living room, even through the closed door. And she could hear Honey talking to herself—probably role-playing again—through the wall, from her own room.

It wasn’t really that loud, and were it not for her experience, Vanilla would likely have not been bothered by it. Besides, turning on some Philip Glass would have drowned it out easily. But somehow…she didn’t want to listen to music.

She didn’t want to do anything.

The sounds were too overwhelming.

They were smothering her.

They were beating against her head.

She started breathing heavily.

“No, NO—not again!” she cried, trying desperately to suppress her memory of the harrowing incident.

She had to get out of there.

* * * * *

Ordinarily she would have told someone where she was going, but she forgot to do so this time, and by the time she remembered, she had gone considerably far away—too far for it to make sense to go all the way back just to say she was leaving, and then leave a second time.

“Will they even miss me?” she wondered. “Apple—LAUGHED—what’s stopping them from turning on me?”

She kicked a rock in frustration. It bounced against a tree—she had come into a forest some distance from her neighborhood—and she had to duck to avoid getting hit in the head.

“I’ve HAD it with friends!” she moaned. “I’ll never trust anyone again!”

She sat down under a tree, making sure to pick a large one with a big shadow, one that might hide her. She scrunched up into a ball and pulled her hood over her face—but not TOO far, lest it remind her—and just held still.

She stayed like that for a long time—it was probably only minutes, a half hour at most, but it felt like long hours to Vanilla.

Finally she sighed, sat up, and relaxed her body. She was alone. There was no getting around it. She was all alone in the world, and she always would be. And she wanted it to stay that way.

When her ears perked up she wondered if she had nodded off. She didn’t remember going to sleep, or dreaming anything, and the sun seemed to be in the same position in the sky, from what she could see of it.

What had that sound been?

No, too far away.

She was safe.

And she was glad. She didn’t want to leave, not yet. And that was if she wanted to go back home at all.

“You’re being an idiot,” said Vanilla to herself, now that no one could hear her. After the fashion of Alice from her favorite Lewis Carroll books, she sometimes liked to scold herself. “You can’t survive out here. You’re a dog, not a wolf. You can’t get food for yourself. You need an owner.”

But she cringed. Some owner. He didn’t exactly smile at her, or pet her, or show any overt signs of love. When he gave her what she needed, it was more like an obligation than anything else.

Her eyes glazed over, and half-closed.

* * * * *

Her ears perked up again. She heard growling. Snapping. Barking.

Not dogs, from the sound of it—wolves.

Wolves.

Vanilla slowly tried to back off from the sound. She did NOT want to run into anyone, least of all any wolves who from the sound of things were hunting something.

Eventually she reached a standing position, and she slowly began to back off, trying to remember the direction in which she had come.

Just then it flashed past.

A white rabbit.

Vanilla rolled her eyes. She wasn’t dreaming, but that’s just the kind of thing that she would have dreamed about, from the Alice books.

But this was hardly the White Rabbit from Lewis Carroll. He was not wearing a waistcoat, nor did he have a watch, and in fact he seemed to be very young, barely more than a baby—and while he was running, it did not appear to be an attempt not to be late.

No, this rabbit was clearly the wolf pack’s prey.

Vanilla slowly tried to back away, but as she did the rabbit changed course.

He was heading right for her.

At first Vanilla thought that it was just panicked, but there could be no mistaking it.

The rabbit was charging RIGHT. TOWARD. HER.

Vanilla tried to let out a yelp—but couldn’t. She didn’t know if it was that she was physically unable or that she was afraid that she might alert the wolves to her presence, but she could not scream.

Suddenly the rabbit took a flying leap—right at Vanilla! He landed on her jacket, and before Vanilla could scream this time, the rabbit stuffed himself into her mouth.

Vanilla was too frightened to even be bewildered at what the rabbit was doing. But before she knew it, the rabbit was entirely in her mouth, and her lips shut around him.

Just then Vanilla heard sniffing.

She backed up.

Some large wolves came out from behind the trees, their noses low to the ground, sniffing.

“You!”

Vanilla cringed, her paws tensing into fists.

“Have you seen a white rabbit pass this way?” said the wolf, who was clearly the alpha female.

Vanilla could only mumble, for what she had in her mouth.

“Well, if you should see him, don’t listen to him. Don’t listen to a word he says, don’t trust him. He’s a rabbit—rabbits are tricksters, and tricksters are NOT to be trusted. If you should find him, don’t have anything to do with him. He’s DANGEROUS.”

Vanilla’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help a whimper. Ridiculous though the wolf’s words were, she had heard that about rabbits, and the fact that the rabbit was IN HER MOUTH did not make her feel good.

The wolves went on their way, continuing to sniff, but they were losing the scent of their quarry.

When the wolves were clearly out of sight, Vanilla spat the rabbit out of her mouth, wiping her face in disgust. She didn’t know where this rabbit had been, and for all she knew she might get SICK now!

She didn’t care anymore—she wanted to go home.

She started for home, not realizing at first that she was being followed.

Followed by a little white baby rabbit, hopping into her shadow each time it got away from him.

Vanilla was almost halfway home, and her surroundings were beginning to look familiar, when she realized that the white baby rabbit was following her.

“Go home!” she snapped.

The rabbit did not.

“Mama!” said the rabbit.

Vanilla facepalmed herself. “You’re delusional,” she muttered. “But what can I expect from a baby rabbit?”

“You saved me!” said the rabbit. “You’re my mama!”

“I’m NOT anyone’s mama, rabbit.”

“My name’s Peter!”

“Whatever, I’m not interested in what you’re selling.”

Vanilla turned and tried to ignore the rabbit as she continued on her way home.

The rabbit continued to follow her.

“WHAT?!” she finally snapped.

“I’m the Easter Bunny!”

Vanilla felt like crying, but they were angry tears. “WHY ME?”

“I am. Really!”

“Go HOME!”

Vanilla decided not to talk to the rabbit anymore. She continued on her way home, but the rabbit would not go away.

Finally she groaned. She had thought it through, and realized that the rabbit was probably in danger back in the forest. Did it even HAVE a home anymore, she wondered? Was that why he was following her? That combined with the fact that she had “saved his life”, even though she hadn’t really done anything?

“Oh, get over here!”

Vanilla bent down, picked up the rabbit, and took it home.

“Dad’s NOT going to be happy about this.”

* * * * *

“THERE you are, Vanilla, we’ve been worried about you! Dad was going to call the authorities!” cried Honey.

“Sorry….” Vanilla was hiding the rabbit in her pocket, as best she could.

“Where WERE you?”

“Nowhere. Just had to get out by myself for a little.”

“Vanilla….” Honey reached out her paw sympathetically but Vanilla took a step back. Honey put her paws up as if to show she wasn’t armed. “I can understand how you must have felt, but you really should have told someone.”

“Sorry….”

“What’s in your pocket?”

“NOTHING!”

Honey gave Vanilla a weird look.

“Well, ‘nothing’ is wiggling around in your pocket, what did you bring home?”

Vanilla turned red. Pulling her hood over her face, she took out the rabbit.

“Awwww, he’s so CUTE!” said Honey, bending down and smiling at the rabbit.

Honey giggled. “Well, it’s an honor to have the Easter Bunny grace us with his presence,” she said, curtsying.

Vanilla rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want to bring him home, but some wolves were hunting him, and…he followed me. I tried to get rid of him, but—well, he’ll probably die if I just send him back to the woods.”

“I don’t imagine Dad’ll be too happy.”

“I wasn’t planning to KEEP him!” said Vanilla. “Just…maybe nurse him back to health until he’s big enough to leave.”

“That sounds reasonable enough. I’ll go see if I can find some leftover vegetables or something he can eat.”

Honey left, and Vanilla sneaked into her room.

* * * * *

“I’m hungry, Mama!” said Peter.

“I’m NOT your mama!” snapped Vanilla, unable to help showing off her sharp teeth. “I wouldn’t even be doing this if YOU hadn’t followed me home, and you weren’t being hunted!”

“Want an Easter egg? I can lay one for you—a pretty green, like your jacket!”

Vanilla facepalmed herself. It was so ridiculous she almost felt like laughing—but she didn’t want to laugh. Peter couldn’t help an amused expression at Vanilla trying to hide this.

“There are…SO many things wrong with that...that it’s not even funny.”

“I can! I’m the Easter Bunny—I lay Easter eggs every Easter!”

Vanilla took a deep breath, and tried to talk patiently—but she couldn’t help sounding snobbish, like a know-it-all.

“First of all, you’re a rabbit. Rabbits do not lay eggs—they give birth to live young. Second, even if rabbits did lay eggs—which they don’t—you’re not old enough to lay eggs, you’re a baby. Only grown-up animals lay eggs. Third, even if you were old enough and rabbits did lay eggs, you’re a boy. Boy animals do not lay eggs, only girl animals do. Fourth, even if you were a member of a species that laid eggs, and an adult, and female, NO ONE lays HARD-BOILED eggs dyed different colors!”

“I can.”

Vanilla groaned. “Then show me.”

“I can’t do it NOW.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I’ll do it before I go—I promise!”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, kid.”

Honey knocked softly at Vanilla’s door. Vanilla let her in quickly.

“Got them. No carrots, but I got a few lettuce leaves.”

“Thank you!” said Peter, licking his lips.

Honey smiled and gave him the lettuce.

“Who’d have thought we’d have the Easter Bunny in our house?” said Honey.

"We have to do this take again! HAL, do it with a LOT less emotion!""I'm sorry Stan, I'm afraid I can't do that."--Phoenix

pair-o-dimes dot blogspot dot com

Thu Mar 22, 2012 4:51 pm

copper

Puppy Wrangler

Joined: Tue Sep 28, 2010 8:18 pmPosts: 6327Location: Florida

Re: Easter Cake

Another interesting update. So the great Peter Rabbit is here and visiting. Sounds wonderful.

Honey is very accepting. Vanilla needs to take a page from her book and relax a bit.

A green egg on Easter. What a thoughtful gift.

_________________My charactersEverybody has a story to tell. What's yours?

Fri Mar 23, 2012 3:38 am

valerio

Game Master

Joined: Mon May 25, 2009 6:53 amPosts: 15315Location: Italy

Re: Easter Cake

Too late, CC, too late.Addiction comes strong with the Cakes And when the li'l one said 'Mama!', my heart melted more than with any known ship! That baby rabbit is a weapon of mass cuteness!

_________________

Fri Mar 23, 2012 4:46 am

ChewyChewy

Joined: Wed Feb 24, 2010 3:23 pmPosts: 5458

Re: Easter Cake

Here's Chapter 3!

“No, Vanilla.”

“Dad, I understand how you feel—”

“NO, Vanilla,” said Mr. Cake.

Vanilla took a deep breath. She did not appreciate not being allowed to speak, considering what she had to say.

“I didn’t want to bring him here myself, Dad. I didn’t have a choice—he followed me, and he was being hunted by wolves.”

Mr. Cake stood up. He had a strange look on his face that looked like a combination of anger and fear.

“If wolves come here looking for that rabbit—”

“I…don’t think they will,” said Vanilla honestly. “They gave up.”

“I don’t want another animal in my house. I don’t want to be responsible for two dogs AND a rabbit.”

“Y-You don’t have to be,” said Vanilla. “Honey and I have been taking care of him. And once he can take care of himself, out he goes. I promise.”

Mr. Cake grumbled. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I. But it seems we don’t have a choice.”

Mr. Cake grumbled again and turned on the TV. The conversation was over.

It was Vanilla’s turn to grumble.

* * * * *

“Now look what you did!” she snapped at Peter, who somehow seemed to be bigger. “You’ve gotten me in trouble with my dad! I’m going to get punished because of you!”

“Don’t be scared,” said Peter. “I’ll protect you.”

“Are you even LISTENING to me?! Dad doesn’t want you here, and neither do I! I’m only keeping you here because I don’t have a choice! You’re forcing me to disobey my dad!”

“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

Vanilla facepalmed herself, taking deep breaths so she wouldn’t lose her temper. “That’s the second promise you’ve made to me.”

“I always keep my promises.”

“You promised to lay a green Easter egg, and now you’re promising to protect me. Two things you can’t do because of who you are.”

“I’m the Easter Bunny, I told you that.”

Vanilla groaned. “You’re still sticking to that story?”

“It’s true! Trust me!”

Vanilla sighed. She didn’t know what to do with this cwazy wabbit—er, crazy rabbit.

Peter started scratching himself. “I think I need a bath, Mama.”

“Kibble…I suppose you expect ME to give you a bath?”

Peter smiled at her.

Vanilla made frustrated noises as she picked up the rabbit and took him to the bathtub.

* * * * *

Peter stayed with the Cakes for some time, and grew bigger as he did. Vanilla turned out to be his primary caregiver—she would feed him, bathe him, groom him, rock him to sleep. The longer he stayed, the more upset Mr. Cake got with Vanilla, and the more frustrated Vanilla got with Peter. But she continued to take care of Peter, even though she didn’t want to, every day looking forward to when he would go away. She would have even forgotten his promises (as she knew he was just crazy and wouldn’t be able to keep them) if he didn’t keep bringing them up.

But the more she took care of Peter, the more he called her his “mama”. Vanilla still did not like the moniker.

“He goes,” said Mr. Cake finally. It was three days before Easter. “I won’t have that rabbit in my house anymore. He sheds, and he makes messes.”

“But Dad—” started Honey.

“But nothing. Either he goes, or….”

Honey got scared. Even Vanilla got scared. Mr. Cake didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to. The look on his face was threat enough. He had NEVER been this serious before, about ANYTHING.

Honey began to tear up. She would miss Peter. He had always been so cute, and adorable, and funny. Besides, she didn’t know what would happen to him. Maybe those wolves wouldn’t still be hunting him down by now but Peter was still a rabbit. He could easily be hunted.

Vanilla was only too glad to be rid of the rabbit. She was seriously starting to wonder if perhaps that alpha female wolf had been right: she had said that Peter was a trickster, and not to be trusted. That he was dangerous.

Vanilla doubted very much that he was DANGEROUS, but she was willing to believe the rest—or at least to consider the possibility. She just thought he was crazy.

So why had she taken care of him, when she didn’t want to and when Mr. Cake hadn’t wanted her to? She didn’t know.

But it didn’t matter. Peter was LEAVING.

“I’ll take him back,” said Vanilla to Honey when the sisters were alone. “It’ll be too painful for you.”

“Are you sure?”

Vanilla nodded.

“Okay…at least let me say goodbye.”

Vanilla sighed, and held her paw out, indicating that Honey could enter her room.

There was Peter. He seemed to be almost grown up by now. He smiled at the two dogs.

Thanks for WHAT? thought Vanilla. For breaking and entering? For getting me in trouble with Dad? For being a handful?

“You’re welcome, Auntie Honey.”

Honey’s heart melted at being called that, and her tears came anew. She hugged Peter so tightly that it seemed as though she feared he would fly away and never come back if she let go. Oddly, though, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Come on, Peter, out you go. Time to go home.”

“Yes, Mama, it is time,” said Peter, and obediently he followed Vanilla. She didn’t understand why he was so quick to do what she said. Who was she, that he should follow her orders? It wasn’t the first time.

She went out the door, and Peter followed.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Mama’, anyway?”

“Because you are my mama,” said Peter. “You saved me. And I promised to save you too. And I always keep my promises.”

“Like your promise to lay a green Easter egg for me?”

Peter nodded.

“And maybe some ham with that?”

Peter cocked his head, looking puzzled. “I’m a rabbit, not a pig. I can’t promise that.”

“Come on, Peter, time to go home,” said Vanilla when they arrived at the edge of the forest.

Peter did not move.

“Come on, you’ve been horning your way in on my life so far, now it’s time to go.”

Peter’s nose twitched, but otherwise he did not move, nor did he say anything.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m scared….” said Peter in such a low voice that Vanilla almost didn’t hear him.

Vanilla groaned. She didn’t want to admit it, but she could sympathize. It had been a long time before she was able to go back to the location where she had been the victim of the “Turtle Soup” incident. She wished someone had done for her what she had been forced to do for Peter. In later days she would realize that someone HAD done just that, but at the moment she couldn’t acknowledge this. Right now she just didn’t want to identify with this stupid little rabbit who had been such a big pain in the neck to her for so long. But again, she didn’t really have a choice.

“You’re bigger than you were before,” said Vanilla unhelpfully.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Peter. “I’m still scared. I know what I have to do, but…I’m scared to do it….”

Vanilla sighed. “I can’t keep protecting you. I don’t live in the forest, and I’m not going to move for your sake.”

How long had it been now? An hour? Suddenly Vanilla’s ears perked up. She slapped herself awake. She tried to listen.

No mistaking it. Something moving in the trees.

“Look out!” cried Peter.

Vanilla had no chance to run away before it fell out of the sky and landed on her.

A snake.

A SNAKE.

A SNAKE!!!!!!!

Vanilla’s shriek echoed throughout the forest as she tried to shake the snake off her. Once it was off her she shuddered horribly. It did not come after her again, but now it was heading straight for a certain white rabbit.

Rather than cry for help, the rabbit ran away, the snake slithering after him.

Vanilla might have taken this opportunity to go home. It was dark, she couldn’t see, and her family might be worried about her again—not to mention that the rabbit was out of her life now. Besides, he wasn’t a baby anymore, and his powerful hind legs would surely save him.

Vanilla did not leave the forest.

“Grahhhh…kibble….”

Vanilla’s ears perked up. She had never known herself to use such language before! But she didn’t know what was wrong with her. Why did she care about a pesky little rabbit?

…But she did.

She went after the snake.

* * * * *

“NO, Mama! DON’T!” cried Peter.

Vanilla was tapping the ground with a stick, trying to get the snake’s attention.

It worked.

“You sssssstay out of thisssssss. Thissssssss issssssssn’t your fight,” said the snake.

"We have to do this take again! HAL, do it with a LOT less emotion!""I'm sorry Stan, I'm afraid I can't do that."--Phoenix

pair-o-dimes dot blogspot dot com

Tue Mar 27, 2012 11:14 pm

copper

Puppy Wrangler

Joined: Tue Sep 28, 2010 8:18 pmPosts: 6327Location: Florida

Re: Easter Cake

ChewyChewy wrote:

copper wrote:

Um, how did a constrictor get into the wilds of an American Forest not in the South.... is this a pet? It's owner, or former owner, will get into a lot of trouble for it running loose....

So Vanilla ate Peter. That's unusual. I guess that was Vanilla's first taste of raw meat?

So the snake is like a vampire, gotcha!

...Frequent flier miles?

And...HOW is it like a vampire, exactly...?

Part of the legend of Vampires, especially since Bram Stoker's novel, is that they can hypnotize people like the snake did. Look into their mind and control them, make them motionless for when they take the final bite. Made for an alluring scene in Dracula.

_________________My charactersEverybody has a story to tell. What's yours?

Tue Mar 27, 2012 11:24 pm

valerio

Game Master

Joined: Mon May 25, 2009 6:53 amPosts: 15315Location: Italy

Re: Easter Cake

Given the surreality of this tableau, any comment will be suspended until next update. *cluck*

_________________

Wed Mar 28, 2012 12:11 am

ChewyChewy

Joined: Wed Feb 24, 2010 3:23 pmPosts: 5458

Re: Easter Cake

Here's Chapter 5!

I’m dead.

This is how it feels to be dead.

Somehow Vanilla didn’t feel anything either way about it. She was not frightened, she was not sad, she was not angry, she was not relieved. She just was.

No. I’m not dead. I’m dying. That’s what it is.

Again, Vanilla didn’t feel anything. Not fear at dying. Not sadness at the fact that her life was ending. Not anger at the unfairness of it all. Not relief from the pain of life. She just was.

No. That wasn’t right. She started thinking about Honey. It would be a shame to leave Honey behind—why was that? Was it for her own sake or for Honey’s? And what did that mean? Was it a shame to die and leave Honey alone, or was it a shame that Honey wasn’t coming with her?

She mentally reached out for Honey. But it was no use. She couldn’t reach.

She thought of Mr. Cake. Somehow…thinking of Mr. Cake seemed even more appealing than thinking of Honey—why WAS that? That didn’t make any sense.

She reached further. The coils were starting to feel looser.

She reached beyond Mr. Cake. What WAS she reaching for?

“No….”

“Yesssssss….” whispered the snake.

“No….”

She reached beyond her home. She reached beyond her family and friends. She reached beyond her entire world, reaching for that elusive something hiding behind it all.

And reaching back to her.

“NO!!!!!!!!”

Later on she would describe this to herself as feeling like Popeye in the old cartoons, after he ate his spinach, although for now she did not connect the feeling in her mind with having swallowed the rabbit.

She strained to pull the snake’s coils off her so that she could breathe, and the snake hissed and struck at her.

It hurt.

A lot.

“Stop it! STOP it!!!”

“Turtle, turtle, turtle sssssssoup….”

Blindly, Vanilla thrust her paw out at random, cupping her hand as if feeling for something. With her other paw she smacked against the snake as it kept striking at her.

Finally she had gripped it—the snake’s throat.

She squeezed.

Hard.

VERY hard.

“Let me go!!!”

For an instant—JUST for an instant—Vanilla almost did. Because of pity for the snake. It sounded so helpless now, and she knew what that was like.

But the instant had passed.

Vanilla squeezed harder.

She shook the snake vigorously, as though trying to snap its neck.

Its neck did not snap.

Vanilla threw the snake down as hard as she could, and this did nothing.

She stomped her foot on the snake’s head—once, twice, three times.

Finally the snake, weakened from the fight, slithered away. It would not bother her again.

Vanilla ran out of the forest as fast as she could.

* * * * *

Vanilla said nothing as she returned home, but ran crying into Honey’s arms. Honey remembered how Vanilla had reacted to the “Turtle Soup” incident.

But this was different somehow.

Now Vanilla was crying as though in mourning, not because of something that had happened to her personally.

And while Honey did not ask, this was true. Vanilla was mourning. She didn’t know why. She should have logically been crying over what had happened to her. But instead she was crying because she felt as though she had LOST something.

But what? Surely not Peter—she had gotten along fine without him before, so why should she be mourning his loss now? Yet what else was there? Nothing she could think of….

He saved me. Just like he promised….

No, you’re being ridiculous. The one has nothing to do with the other. What are you, a character in a video game?

But I couldn’t fight back before—

You could have, obviously, or you’d be dead now. You just DIDN’T before.

No, I COULDN’T.

Come on, quit being irrational and emotional.

Quit being insensitive!

Vanilla didn’t know WHAT to think now.

She simply went to her bed and cried. She did not come out of her room until Easter.

"We have to do this take again! HAL, do it with a LOT less emotion!""I'm sorry Stan, I'm afraid I can't do that."--Phoenix

pair-o-dimes dot blogspot dot com

Fri Mar 30, 2012 9:10 pm

copper

Puppy Wrangler

Joined: Tue Sep 28, 2010 8:18 pmPosts: 6327Location: Florida

Re: Easter Cake

Awww, such an emotional update. At least she managed to find the courage to fight!

Poor Peter. I guess he kept his promise.

So when do we see the egg?

_________________My charactersEverybody has a story to tell. What's yours?

Fri Mar 30, 2012 11:45 pm

ChewyChewy

Joined: Wed Feb 24, 2010 3:23 pmPosts: 5458

Re: Easter Cake

Indeed.

Yes, he did.

Right now! Here's Chapter 6--and last!

That night Vanilla had a strange dream. She was talking to someone she couldn’t see—but this time it wasn’t herself. She wasn’t sure who it was.

Why can’t you trust?

“It’s so hard—too many people are untrustworthy….”

So? Are you happy this way?

“No….”

Then why choose a certain misery over a possible happiness?

“Grah…that’s unfair!”

Is it?

Vanilla couldn’t respond.

She woke up and thought she was still dreaming. No way could she still be awake. No way.

But there it was. It was impossible, but there it was.

Peter was in the room.

He was smiling up at her.

“You’re not dreaming, I’m really here,” said Peter.

Vanilla’s jaw dropped—and then she closed it again. “Do I WANT to know how you got out?”

“No, you don’t,” said Peter. “But not because it’s disgusting—because it’s too much for you to handle. But you see I’ve kept my promise to protect you.”

Vanilla looked defeated. “I can’t explain how else it could have happened.”

“Then TRUST, Vanilla.”

Vanilla’s ears perked up. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

“I know. But I’ve also kept my other promise to you.”

Vanilla frowned. Peter took out a basket and waved his paw over it like a stage magician.

“Iggledy-piggledy-wiggledy-woo!”

He produced a plain green Easter egg and handed it to Vanilla.

Vanilla was stunned. Slowly she reached her paw out.

“Go ahead, take it—it’s okay.”

Vanilla took the egg. She felt it. It was a real egg—it was hard-boiled. It would not crack and run under pressure.

Tears began to run down her face.

“It’s okay, Vanilla. I know it’s not easy to trust, especially after what happened to you. But look what happens when you do.”

Peter started for the window.

“Where are you going now?”

He smirked. “Duh, got other Easter eggs to deliver. But I won’t forget you—ever. However….”

Vanilla began to cringe.

“You’ve started your first step, but no one can expect too much of you too soon. So perhaps it’s best that you forget me—at least for awhile.”

With that he hopped out the window and was out of sight, and out of Vanilla’s life.

Vanilla looked at her egg. She wasn’t sure what had made her get an egg out of the fridge, but she wasn’t going to eat it here. She wasn’t sure why she was going to eat it at all—she didn’t usually get human food. But somehow…it felt right.

* * * * *

Mr. Cake was watching TV, and Honey was watching Vanilla eat her egg.

“Hey…are you okay?” said Honey. She had forgotten too. Perhaps then it was a mercy that Vanilla did not have to suffer being the only one who did not remember.

“No,” muttered Vanilla as she absent-mindedly ate her egg. “But I will be.”

“You sure?”

Vanilla nodded. “As sure as I am that eggs are eggs.”

Honey snickered. “You’re okay, you wouldn’t be making yolks if you weren’t.”

Vanilla rolled her eyes. “That is such a lame pun it’s on its last eggs.”

Honey laughed.

Vanilla facepalmed herself. What was WRONG with her?

Honey gave her a hug. “Happy Easter, Vanilla.”

She ate the egg and somehow…she did feel better. A LOT better, considering. It still hurt—and she would never forget the pain of what had happened to her—but she knew now that she would be all right. She could take comfort in what she had: her dad, her sister, her home. The food she ate, the clothing she wore, and her collar and tags. Her room, her bed. She had taken it all for granted before, and she knew that was wrong—she hadn’t always had it. But she wouldn’t take it for granted again.

Vanilla was finished with her egg.

“Come on, let’s go hunt for the other Easter eggs!” said Honey, wagging her tail.

Vanilla shook her head, but came along.

* * * * *

Honey and Vanilla were hunting Easter eggs and were almost at the end now.

Vanilla looked at it. There was something about this Easter egg hunt. It seemed like a childish endeavor, and yet…it was a metaphor for life, really, wasn’t it? Everyone’s searching for something, and no one is always sure where it is, or even what it is—or for that matter, even that they’re searching at all.

But what a reward there is for patience, persistence, and the motivation to keep trying.

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